


Bluish

by bluish



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BL00D, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluish/pseuds/bluish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yeah i know this title and my username are the same i just like animal collective a lot and not at all because i'd already posted @ lj before i changed my username shh shhh shhh</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bluish

1

He watches as Jim elaborately pulls strings, like a violinist, like a man obsessed.  
He watches as the man he loves is falling and stumbling across the world  
like a spider knitting the sparkling threads of a web.  
Watches as it all shatters apart.  
He watches as his friend, his best friend,  
loses his heart to a stranger.  
It’s Sherlock Holmes, of course he does.

2

He’s got the shot lined up perfectly, the rifle aimed at the small of his back.  
Enough to cause pain.  
Maybe not enough to kill.  
He’d want to save that, to pummel two pounds out of him.  
To make him sick, to make him forget, to tear his organs from his body.  
Look at this painting, it belongs in a gallery.  
He watches as the hit is called off.

3

He watches as they become one, like when a black queen takes a white queen in chess.  
It might as well be the same object. They are both made of cheap marble.  
Both truthfully mottled and both willing to sacrifice every subject to win.  
Sebastian says: _“I don’t know you any more,”_ and he doesn’t.  
Jim says: “I’m not going to tell you I love you but I’ll tell you that I’d kill people to stay close to you. I’m wired differently. I don’t love him because I don’t love.” Not _“Let me kiss your neck until we become all clashing teeth and bruises”_ , or _“I want to fuck you into tomorrow morning,”_ just a head-shake and a ghost sigh and a sense of hurt.

4

He watches from the window as Jim’s blood all spills out of his head like a tap.  
He watches as the man he hates is falling and swallowing pockets of blood,  
closing his eyes as he cracks like glass on pavement.  
He watches the human,  
the very human Doctor Watson,  
watches as his heart collapses like a building.  
Sebastian says _“my man’s just died.”_ John says _“you don’t know the half of it.”_

5

He comes back, of course, it’s Sherlock Holmes.  
He comes back and he parades around the dusty streets and one day he’s not looking where he’s going.  
One day he stumbles into a trap and he’s punched to a pulp and shot.  
He watches as the breath escapes him and watches as his wrist stills.  
You had it coming, you had it coming, he repeats.  
And watches as the remnants of life escape into the atmosphere.  
 _“I got him, I found him,”_ he says, to no-one.  
 _“I found him, I got him at last.”_


End file.
